


Three (3) Helpings of Katsudon

by Yurious



Series: Stuff and Things [3]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Abuse of commas probably, Abuse of italics without a doubt, An actual plot for once, Angst, But everything is resolved by the end, Gen, Humor, I hope, M/M, Second Person Perspective, Victor is the bourgeoise, Yuri cares more than you think, Yuuri just really cares about everyone, abuse of parentheses, grautitous cursing, i can't do sad endings it hurts me too much, i love him so much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-08
Updated: 2017-02-08
Packaged: 2018-09-22 21:42:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9626780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yurious/pseuds/Yurious
Summary: Oh, Yurio, we’re he-ere!” Viktor sings from behind a locked door. “Yurio, let me in!” Shit. You should not be this surprised (or terrified). You knew this was coming, you’ve known for a few days now. You just cannot, will not fathom anything worse than spending the weekend alone with the horribly annoying man in your grandfather’s tiny apartment. (Except maybe spending the weekend alone with Viktor and Katsuki.) Unfortunately for you, that is exactly what is happening.OrViktor and Yuuri come for a visit, Yuri's name isn't Yurio, and no one is comfortable with negative emotions.Like all the other stories in this series, this can be read as a stand alone, but works better when the previous works are read first.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I have created some pain. I hope. Not that I want anyone to be in pain, but that's kind of the idea of angst so oh well.

“Oh, Yurio, we’re he-ere!” Viktor sings from behind a locked door. “Yurio, let me in!” _Shit_. You should not be this surprised (or terrified). You knew this was coming, you’ve known for a few days now. You just cannot, will not fathom anything worse than spending the weekend alone with the horribly annoying man in your grandfather’s tiny apartment. (Except maybe spending the weekend alone with Viktor and Katsuki.)

“Viktor, be patient. He’s probably just in another room.” Unfortunately for you, that is exactly what is happening.

Katsuki’s reasonable, if incorrect, statement is met with a loud display of defiance. Viktor pounds on the door. “Yurio, open the door this instant! I demand to be let inside! I want to see your home and how much you’ve grown.” Viktor spews, along with other such sappy bullshit. Disgusting. (You’ve missed him too, a lot.)

“Yurio, please.”

The door swings open. “My name isn’t fucking Yurio. It’s Yu--”

You are cut off by a bone crushing hug from Viktor. You halfheartedly try to wriggle out of his grasp, but end up leaning into it despite yourself. When he finally releases you, you have to fight to urge to check for broken ribs.

“I am glad you have finally accepted my affection, Yurio.” It’s Yuri. Your name is Yuri.

“You know, I’m just surprised you have retained your strength in such old age.” Katsuki looks a bit alarmed, but Viktor beams. He knows what you really meant. (I’ve missed you so much.) “I see you brought your enthralling katsudon with you.” You glance briefly at Katsuki, who is still standing awkwardly behind Viktor in the doorway.

Katsuki scratches his head uncomfortably. “It’s good to see you, Yurio.”

“Yeah, whatever,” You step back a little. “Are you going to come in or not?”

Katsuki smiles gratefully and walks about four inches into the room. God, could the man get any more awkward? “Your grandfather has a nice home.” It’s shit. It’s cramped and old and dusty and it’d be easier for everyone if Grandpa would just let go of the past and move into the city. You make enough money from competitions, it wouldn’t be hard.

“Isn’t it?” Viktor prances, hand to God, prances around the small living room/kitchen/dining room “It’s so quaint! It’s just like the tiny houses on the internet!” He plops onto your small couch and sighs happily. Great. Viktor thinks that your apartment is a fucking _tiny hous_ e. Awesome.

Katsuki puts his hand on Viktor’s leg, warning him, and quickly changes the subject. At least you can say that he’s done one good thing for you in the miserable time that you’ve known him. “So, Yurio, what have you been up to here in Russia?”

Viktor grins, finally getting the hint. "Yes, what have you been up to?"

What have you been up to? “Skating, obviously. Yakov yells at me a lot, but that’s to be expected.” Your voice takes on a fond quality that’s usually reserved for Grandpa (and Otabek, but you don’t realize that yet). Viktor hums in agreement. ”Mila and Georgi have taken over harassing me now that you've moved to Japan,” Fuck, is your voice cracking? Fuck. “But I sure as hell prefer them over you, old man.”

Viktor’s eyes widen, hurt. You hadn’t meant for that to sound so cold. (Had you?) Fuck. He regains his composure quickly; he’s giving you a second chance. “I would’ve thought you would’ve missed watching the true russian king of the ice.”

(You did, you do.) You scoff. “You wish, you could never surpass me at this age, especially not after taking a year off in Japan.” You spit the last word out like poison. Japan _is_ poison. Japan poisons perfectly happy skaters and steals them away from their true potential. Japan poisons perfectly content people and forces them to leave their homes and forget their promises. Yuuri Katsuki is _poison_. “Especially since you just spent the whole time sucking Katsuki’s dick.”

Katsuki blinks. His eyes go glassy with tears. Everything is silent for a moment, and then your world explodes into noise.

Viktor stands and points a shaking finger at you. “How dare you?” he asks angrily, you can tell he's barely keeping himself from shouting. Katsuki flinches, but you meet Viktor's glare.

“If he hadn’t practically whored himself out to you at the banquet last year, you never would’ve given him the time of day. You didn’t choose him because he inspired you, you chose him because you wanted someone to fuck. Without you, he would’ve retired like he should’ve in the first place.” (Please don’t retire, Viktor needs you. _I_ need you.) Why are you doing this? What are you thinking? (Maybe you are the poison)

Katsuki lets out a choked noise from the couch. Viktor seethes. “You do not get a free pass to treat him like this because you are sixteen and jealous! I owe nothing to you! I choreographed your program, you won, and now you do not get to say anything more on the matter.” He takes in a shaky breath. “Especially not about Yuuri. I chose Yuuri because he wonderful and kind and beautiful and perfect! His skating proved that to me, and while his body is as beautiful as the rest of him, it had nothing to do with it.”

Viktor’s eyes take on an impossibly venomous look. “Viktor,” Katsuki says quietly. “Don’t.”

“If you had even a fraction of the empathy or compassion Yuuri has, you would understand that, Yurio.”

You think you hear Katsuki saying something, but you are too focused on not downright exploding with anger (with utter self-loathing) that you don’t hear anything other than the sound of your own roar. “It’s Yuri!”

You leave them there on the couch without a second glance, and stomp off to your room. God, you are so immature. How many times have you done this? How many times have you lashed out in hurt and sadness and damaged the people you care about? Fuck. You kick the wall and curse loudly a few times, just for good measure. You hear something from beyond your closed door, but the words are muffled by the distance.

“--insulted you, how was I supposed to let that slide?” You catch the tail end of Viktor’s sentence.

“I can take it, Viktor,” Katsuki sounds...angry? You’ve never heard him be angry before. “--twenty five,” The next few words are too quiet to decipher. You press your ear to the door. You really are a child. “--sixteen year old doesn’t like me, it’s not a big deal.”

“It is--I just--you always cared before.” Viktor sounds almost broken.

“What is a big deal is insulting a teenage boy who obviously misses you and thinks that I’m the only reason you left.” He sees right through you. You don’t know how to feel about that. (Grateful. You feel grateful. And scared.)

“You always cared before.” Viktor repeats. Fuck, you did break him.

“Viktor, of course I care!” Oh. “You know better than anyone how true all that felt for me,” (Is he crying?) He pauses for a moment, sniffs, and continues on. “But I care more about the wellbeing and happiness of the boy we are responsible for for the next few days. He’s probably already in a really bad place, with his grandfather in the hospital and all.”

“I forgot about that.” There’s a thump, Viktor sitting down or slumping against a wall. “I’m just as bad at empathy as he is.” His voice breaks.

“You should go in and talk to him.” Katsuki says.

Viktor lets out a humorless laugh. “I think that would do more harm than good.” He laughs again, and it morphs into a sob.

This is not what you wanted.

(Isn’t it though? Didn’t you, in some sick way, want them to feel how you felt? Didn’t you want Katsuki to believe you? Didn’t you want Viktor to break down? You did want this. You _did_.)

What you didn’t want was for Viktor to be angry at himself. You wanted Katsuki to hate him. You think that’s probably worse.)

The rest of their conversation is too quiet for you to hear, and you’re too busy trying not to break down to care anymore. You don’t know how long you sit there, wallowing in misery, but somewhere between your episodes of anger, sadness, and guilt, Viktor knocks on the door.

“What do you want, old man?” You ask, but your voice lacks its usual bite.

“Um, actually, it’s just me.” What? Why is Katsuki the one trying to talk to you? It was supposed to be Viktor. You should be talking to Viktor right now.

“Shouldn’t you be off crying in a bathroom somewhere, Katsudon?” You do not want to talk to some pig who pities you. (Translation: you are terrified that if Katsuki comes in and is nice to you, you will cry. And you don’t cry. You don't. It scares your cat.)

He chuckles softly. “No, I, uh, I think I’m good.” (Translation: He thinks Viktor has that covered.) Why is he being nice to you? “Can I come in?”

“Unless you are here to bring me my cat and three helpings of katsudon, you can fuck off on back to Japan.”

A pause. “I guess that's a yes, then.” He sounds smug. Does Katsuki even possess the ability to be smug?

“What the hell are you talking about?” You try to sit up, but you've forgotten that you are currently leaning against your door, and conk your head against the doorknob in your effort. Fucking hell, this day just cannot get any worse.

“You said if I had your cat or some katsudon, I could come in.”

Fuck. _Fuck_. He's found some way to get into your room and now to torture you he's going to tell you personal stories about, like, the color of Viktor’s socks or some other equally inane bullshit. You are going to cry whether you want to or not, probably out of boredom and just a general wish for death. There's only so much a man can take of Katsuki’s babbling before he goes and downs a shot of bleach, or lighter fluid.

“Well, your cat is right outside the door, and I have two bowls of katsudon in my hands.”

 _Fuuuuuck_. Wait. Not fuck. Not fuck at all. “I said three, you oversized bowl of pork.”

“Well, if I'm an oversized bowl of pork, I guess I'm the third helping.”

Fuck it is. “If I let you in, will you shut the hell up?” It's a last resort, but at least now he won't be able to talk to you. And then maybe you can maintain angry eye contact with him until he gets too uncomfortable and leaves.

“Sure.”

You stand up and unlock the door. You open it slowly, glaring what you can only hope is the equivalent of eight thousand stabs to the jugular. He silently hands you your katsudon, and nods towards your cat, who meows loudly and wanders into your room.

“If you talk, you leave.” He nods again and makes some idiotic gesture of zipping up his lips. You sit on your bed, and to your horror, he sits right next to you. He gives you a look of pity, or understanding, or some shit, and damn if that doesn’t make you want to crawl into the earth and die. You don’t need that shit. Fine. Maybe you _will_ glare at him until he leaves you alone.

You meet Katsuki’s kind eyes with a look of utter hatred, and shove some Katsudon into your mouth. He smiles sadly and takes a small bite. Wimp. Without breaking eye contact, you stab your fork murderously into a piece of pork and devour it. Katsuki takes another dainty bite. This isn’t getting you anywhere. You look down and take another bite; it’s good, almost as good as the katsudon you had when you first went to Japan. Stupid Katsuki, making good food and shit. The least he could do is act like a dick. Dick. You didn’t ask him to bring you this crap. (Well, you did, but you didn’t really mean it.)

Your thoughts are interrupted by a gentle hand on your shoulder. You’re starting to think he’s starved for physical contact or something; seriously, what else would explain that hug-fest during the competition last year?

You try to snap out a good _What the hell, you pig?_ As you swat his hand away, but the best you can choke out is “Wha--?” Because the damned pig himself is pulling you into a hug.

You try. You really, really try. You don’t think you’ve ever tried at anything harder in your whole life, but you just cannot help it. You start to cry. And crying evolves into sobbing, and sobbing evolves into very painful sobbing that makes it impossible to breathe. This is pathetic. You are truly pathetic. You are crying into the chest of your sworn enemy like an absolute baby. You can’t even breathe. That’s it, this is how you die. You are going to choke on your own tears in the arms of Yuuri Katsuki, actual professional crier. Fantastic.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Katsuki whispers. Is he rubbing your back? What an absolute ass. “Yuri, it’s alright. You’re okay.”

You’re not entirely sure if it’s caused by his reassurances, or actually being called by your real name, but you start crying even harder. “Die in hell.” You sob, finally accepting your fate.

“You’re okay.” Katsuki says again. “I promise.”

And that’s it, those are the magic words that somehow get you to calm down. After a minute or so of half-hearted crying, you detach yourself from Katsuki and wipe your eyes. God, his shirt is wrecked. He looks at you, obviously concerned. You look down.

“Do you--?”

“Don’t.”

“Yuri, I--”

“Just wait a damn second.” You position yourself so that your back is leaning against his, your feet outstretched on the bed. “I’m not gonna be able to talk if you’re looking at me, okay?”

I don't…” He pauses. “Okay.”

“You gonna say anything or not?”

After a moment of thought , he speaks. “He’s not mad at you, you know,” He says it like it’s something to be relieved about.

“I know that.” You suck in a breath. This is probably the most vulnerable you’ve been with anyone that wasn’t your grandfather in years. “I guess I kinda wanted him to be, a little.”

“Why?” And bless his little heart, he's not fucking with you or making fun of you, he is genuinely curious. (Maybe that's because normal, healthy people don't like to piss off people they care about for no reason.)

“How the hell should I know?” You snap angrily. “Fuck, sorry, that was meaner than I intended it to be.”

“It's okay.” He sounds surprised. “Um, thanks?”

 _Thanks?_ What the fuck kind of self esteem do you have to have to thank people for apologizing after cursing at you? “Don't read into it.” You sigh. “But anyway, I guess it's kind of like, I don't know, anger is just easier than other emotions? And so if I have an emotion that isn't anger, it's like bam, now it's anger. And then I can actually sort of deal with it, except I don't deal with it, I just kick shit around.”

“That doesn't sound easier at all.” Great, he's even more confused than he was at the beginning. You're a total genius.

“I mean, fuck, it really isn't, but there's not really another option at this point, other than crying, and there's no fucking way I'm doing that again for at least another two years.” Today alone was enough to last you a lifetime. “I'm pretty pissed off all the time anyway, so it doesn't make that big of a difference. But then sometimes I'm not even angry because I'm upset, or because I'm actually angry, I'm just angry to be angry. And then I'm angry about that too.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, sometimes I'll just start a fight with somebody for no reason. And by no reason, I mean I really have no idea why I do it. I'm not bored or anything, there's just an opportunity to get somebody pissed, so I take it. And then they yell, and I yell, and then everything goes to hell and I go kick some shit around. And I _like_ it, too. I don't even really want to like it, there's just some weird part of my brain that forces me to be angry all the time. It's fucking stupid.”

“Hmm,” he tilts his head a little, and dammit, you're really starting to be okay with his existence. This was not the plan. “That sounds very hard. I'm sorry.”

“What the fuck are you sorry for? You didn't do anything.”

“I know,” he says softly “But that seems really lonely.”

You try to swallow the lump starting to form in your throat. “Yeah,” you look down. Your knuckles are starting to turn white from how hard you're clenching your fists. “It is.”

Katsuki is silent for what feels like several minutes, but could very well only be a few seconds. “I used to be really lonely too, you know.”

You bite down on your tongue, a harsh remark dies in your throat.

He takes in a deep breath and continues. “I, uh, I always felt like I was fighting alone. I wouldn’t let people help me because I didn’t want them to think I was weak. I didn’t yell at people or anything, and I wasn’t exactly mean, but I never reached out to people and if they reached out to me I would just ignore them. At some point it became so natural for me to push people away that it didn’t seem like anyone was trying anymore. I used to think that because I believed I was alone so hard for so long it just eventually came true. But...”

“But?” You ask, sounding both too patient and more impatiently than you would’ve hoped.

“But it was never true. There were always people fighting with me, even if I didn’t see or acknowledge them.” You remember Yuuko and Takeshi back in Hasetsu, always leaving the rink open for him, and Minako with her large signs and encouraging words. “They weren’t always the same people, and not everyone fought the whole time, but there was always someone with me. I was never alone. Yuri, no matter how hard you believe it, no matter how hard you try, you are never going to be alone.”

You reach backwards, hesitate for a moment, then place your hand over is. You pause. There are so many things you could say, so many things that you wish you were able to say (Thank you, I’m sorry, I don’t know what would’ve happened if you hadn’t come in here, please don’t tell anyone about this, I don’t want to feel alone anymore). “Call me Yurio.”

(Viktor listens from behind a closed door and smiles, knows that everything will be alright.)

**Author's Note:**

> So this is probably my first time writing anything with an actual plot so sorry if it seemed a little derailed at times. I feel like this seems kind of ooc, so, as usual, let me know if anything seems off so I can go back and fix it. (And if you're particularly awesome, let me know if it's not so I can stop worrying.) I know neither of the Yuris are really big "talk about your feelings" people, but I feel like they would open up to each other after a while. They have more in common than they realize.
> 
> That being said, one of my favorite things about this show is how realistically flawed the characters are, and how even though they learn from past mistakes, like real people, they still mess up sometimes. If Viktor is cruel when confronted with emotions, or Yuri lashes out when he's upset, that's because these are things I feel were shown during the first season. Thank you so much for reading, let me know what you thought so I can continue to improve. See you next level.


End file.
